With You
by badfanfictionaire
Summary: The sequel to "She Looks So Perfect", as per request by the wonderful ShadowsOnTheMoon. This time it's from Lydia's POV, still in season one-ish. Inspired by the song "With You" by Jessica Simpson.
1. Chapter 1

_**Cause with you, I can let my hair down. I can say anything crazy; I know you'll catch me right before I hit the ground…**_

* * *

Everyone in the hallway was staring, which isn't unusual, but today I knew it was because there was a huge grin plastered on my face and I was wearing Stiles' lacrosse sweatshirt.

"Lydia, is there anything I should know about, with you and Stiles?" Allison asked as soon as she caught up to me at my locker.

"Uh, no? He let me borrow his sweatshirt last night because I forgot my jacket and it was freezing when I walked to my car, big deal." Stiles and I had agreed to keep things quiet about our relationship for now, until we figured things out and it had stopped being butterfly inducing for the both of us. It made me giddy to think that I was finally with someone who cared just as much about the inside of me as the outside, and it was still hard to believe it was with _Stiles._ I knew it was going to be hard for him to keep quiet, but he knew people were going to talk if we said anything too soon. Plus, with Jackson out of the picture only recently I didn't want anyone to think Stiles was my rebound, because that was so not the case.

"Oh, okay," Allison said clearly confused, "Because I could have sworn he drove you to school this morning, but whatever, not a big deal. Sorry."

"Nope," I lied, "I drove, sorry for the confusion. Ready for bio?"

* * *

Later on Stiles caught me by the arm and dragged me into an empty part of the hall.

"Are you sure we can't just tell people? I mean, please? You're wearing my sweatshirt. Scott saw us driving in together this morning. I mean, I made up an excuse, but seriously I think he's on to us…"

"If we bring it up now people are going to be convinced I'm only dating you to get back at Jackson," I say earnestly, "I don't want that, for either of us, it wouldn't be fair."

He nods vigorously, "Okay, but soon? Because I just want to run down the hall and scream that we're together at the top of my lungs and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to refrain."

"If I kiss you right now can you make it through the rest of the day?"

He nods again, this time even more enthusiastically. "Trust me, I want to tell people just as much as you do. This is on the top ten list of best moments in my life, but I don't want to ruin it with people gossiping. I know I can trust you to hold onto the secret for just a little bit longer." I lean in and stand on my tiptoes, giving him a well deserved kiss. When I step back Stiles' staring just behind me like he's seeing a zombie invasion unfolding. I turn around so I can see what he's so dumbstruck by, and then I wish I hadn't.

"It's not what it looks like," Stiles says immediately, "Please don't kill me, or her, it was my fault. She wasn't involved, but please don't kill me."

Jackson's smug face was making my stomach knot involuntarily. There was no way he wasn't going to spread this around school, or let Stiles off the hook without injury.

"If you thought you were going to make me jealous with _him_ you were wrong," Jackson says snidely, "But I'm sure this will help you commit social suicide pretty quickly, so I hope you're prepared to be a loser just like he is."

"He's not a loser," I snap at him, "Don't even start with me Jackson, I'm not in the mood to deal with you today."

"Lydia," Stiles says quietly, holding my elbow gently, "We should just go, before he changes his mind about not punching me."

"No, Stiles, we're not going to 'just go' because I'm not afraid of him."

"The more time we stand here, the more evidence he has to use against us, and the more people are going to have to talk about. If you want this to stay between us, we need to go."

I look at him momentarily and the knot in my stomach fades to anger toward Jackson. The expression on Stiles' face is a mix of embarrassment and worry, and I don't want to see him like this. I instantly feel bad about making him keep our relationship under wraps, because it occurs to me that we shouldn't have to hide how we feel. Not to mention Jackson just put the idea into Stiles' mind that I was using him, and I wasn't about to let him walk off without knowing the truth.

I didn't even take the time to carefully word what I was about to say, I just let Jackson have it. "Listen, if you seriously think I'm using Stiles to get back at you then _you're_ the one that is mistaken and narcissistic. Why would I want you back after you dumped me? And for no reason! For your information, I like Stiles, a lot. He's everything you're not and then some. He cares about me, he makes sure I'm happy, and he likes me for who I am. I don't have to pretend everything he says is funny, or make myself seem smarter than I am so I can impress him, or dress up in my best outfits everyday just so he'll look at me like I'm the best thing he's ever seen. Stiles is _actually_ funny. He actually thinks I'm smart and doesn't care if I don't 'know everything'. And I'm wearing a hoodie and leggings with no cute accessories and this morning he still made out with me and said I was beautiful. You would have asked me if I was sick just because I was dressed down, and then you wouldn't have come near me all day!" By now my voice is getting a bit shrill so I take a deep breath before I continue. "So no, Jackson, I'm not using him to get back at you. He's not my rebound or my second best or whatever you want to call it. And if you see me dating him as social suicide? _Good_. Let me die with my social status, because I don't want to be associated with jerk-offs like you anyway!"

All of a sudden I realize I've really pissed him off, but before Jackson can even take one step toward me Stiles is standing between us. His hands are already curled into fists like he's going to fight Jackson even if Jackson doesn't make a move.

"Get out of the way, Stilinski," Jackson growls.

"Not a chance," Stiles replies, "You even so much as touch her and I will smash your little Ken Doll face into the ground so hard that not even Doctor Barbie will be able to repair you."

I can feel a grin spread over my face, Stiles never makes any sense when he's angry, but it is absolutely the cutest thing to hear him try and intimidate people.

"You know what? This wouldn't even be a fair fight, you're too tiny for me. Measly little twit. But you're going to pay for this, Stilinski, you're going to pay."

Stiles' gaze remains glued to Jackson as he stalks off down the hallway. He doesn't turn to look at me until the coast is clear.

"So what do we do now?" he asks glumly.

"We don't 'do' anything," I tell him, "Jackson's all talk, he won't hurt you. And if you were talking about the relationship? Well, I guess we better start telling people the truth before they start hearing any lies."

He smiles and takes my hands in his. "Are you sure about this? We can still try to keep it on the down-low if you're more comfortable."

"Nah," I reply confidently, "It's time for people to know I'm with you."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: **_**Hi ****guys, so I'm not sure if this fic is in need of one more chapter, or if it's fine as-is. Please let me know what you think in the comments (or PM me). I'd really appreciate the feedback so I can be sure to make this fic as good as you all deserve! Thanks for reading, please enjoy!**

* * *

_**With nothing but a T-shirt on, I never felt so beautiful, baby as I do now. Now that I'm with you...**_

* * *

"Party at my house tonight?" I ask Allison, though it's more of a statement than a question. My parents, conveniently, won't be home, so the impromptu 'we're a couple' party can happen without any nagging supervision getting in the way.

"Um, yeah? What's the occasion?"

"Come and you'll find out!"

Allison rolled her eyes, "Alright, see you there, what time?"

"Seven," I say, "Don't be late!"

I strutted off leaving Allison at her locker and heading for fourth period, which I have with Stiles. He appears around the next turn in the hallway, ready to walk me to class. "Did you invite Scott to our party?" I ask, taking his hand.

His eyes go wide as he interlaces his fingers with mine, but he doesn't question it, "Yeah, he's on board, but he doesn't' get why we're randomly having a party."

"Whatever, he'll understand soon enough. Allison was confused too, but she knows better than to question too much."

"I'm nervous, but like nervous excited, because I mean this is like a dream come true, but at the same time I'm pretty far out of your league so this might make things awkward…"

"To be honest, I don't really care what anyone else thinks," I tell him squeezing his hand a little more tightly, "I'm so tired of acting like I have it all together all the time. After this year, so much has changed, and I have better friends than I've ever had. You guys won't judge me for needing a day to let loose or just let my hair down. I don't have to be prim and proper, because you guys understand, and that's so much easier than having to fake who you are."

"You really mean that?" Stiles' brown eyes are searching my face like he doesn't know what to make of what I've just said and the answers are written somewhere on my skin.

"I just always figured the only way I was going to be happy was if I was on top. You know, date the jocks, wear Prada and Gucci, do AP Calc in my sleep… But I guess there's a big difference between being on top of everything and being on top of the world. I still like to dress up, sure, but with Jackson it was like a chore because I had to top even my self. Every single day. It was exhausting. And looking back… I wasn't happy, I was bored and Jackson never appreciated me. And to think, all this time you've been admiring me from afar…"

"And I don't care," Stiles says softly with a laugh, "What you wear, because quite frankly I don't know what Prada looks like, and it doesn't even matter. Third grade Lydia Martin looked just as cute in pink sparkly high-tops and her hair in pigtails as high school Lydia Martin does in jeans and a tee shirt. And you're smarter than me so it doesn't matter if you don't know something, I don't know it either… You don't have to impress me, I've always just…. Liked _you_."

"I know," I say, "Thank you."

"No problem," Stiles says, "No problem at all."

* * *

I put on the nicest dress I own and my highest heels. I fluff my hair into soft bouncy curls and pin one side back with a bobby pin, throw on some lipstick and mascara, and I'm ready. I don't know who's coming tonight because I'm pretty sure I invited half the school, but I want to look my best for this moment. Tonight, everyone will know that I'm with Stiles Stilinski and it is absolutely and totally wonderful. They're going to know that I, Lydia Martin, am moving on from my days of being the Queen Bee at school because I'm done pretending I care that much. I just want to be normal, at least as normal as possible (when one of your friends is a werewolf and your best friend is an excellent hunter with an extensive bow and arrow collection, sometimes that's hard…). I want to date someone who cares about _me_, and Stiles is that guy.

* * *

The party is a blur of people. At some point Stiles grabs a microphone from the karaoke machine and loudly tells the crowds of people in my living-room that we're dating. I back him up, yelling that it's official. We kiss to seal the deal, and to our surprise everyone's response is more or less: "_About damn time!"_

I can see Allison and Scott's faces, they're standing off to the side of the room and Scott has his arm around her. They're beaming at us, and Allison mouths, "I knew it!" at me.

Scott and Stiles make eye contact and Scott gives him an approving thumbs up. Before long everyone is back to dancing, and Stiles whisks me out into the middle of the room with him. Wrapped in his arms I feel safe, I feel special, and I feel happier than I have in a long long time.

"You look beautiful," he whispers into the crook of my neck.

"Thank you," I say. I admire him for a moment. His eyes are like mini chocolate fondues and he smells really good, like mint and some kind of scented soap. His long fingers are tracing up and down my back, getting to know every vertebra individually, and I never want them to stop. I want to kiss his lips until they're chapped and ruined, because right now they're curved into a smile that's making me melt.

"Later on, can I see what it looks like on the floor?" he winks.

"Only if you promise never to use that line again," I retort.

"Deal," he grins.

* * *

The next morning I wake up tangled in skinny arms and pressed against Stiles' chest. His chin is resting on my shoulder and I'm curled up as tightly as I can right next to him, my cheek resting on his upper chest. True to my word the dress ended up on the floor. That may have bothered me before, to see an expensive piece of clothing in a wad on the ground, but at the moment I could care less. After he wakes up and we snuggle I slip into a teeshirt and we head downstairs.

"From this angle I can almost see your undies," Stiles teases as he follows me down the steps.

"Not wearing any," I quip back, throwing him a devilish grin as I skip down to the floor and turn to look at him.

His face turns red and he stops in his tracks.

"What?" I say, "No one else is here, going commando is fair game."

"You are so incredibly beautiful," he breathes before enveloping my lips with a deep kiss.

"Pancakes?" I ask, tugging him by the arm into the kitchen.

"You know me so well," he laughs, "This is going to be so much fun, being with you."

My face is starting to hurt from smiling so widely, "Chocolate chips?"

"Okay, now you're stuck with me forever."

"Stiles, now that I'm officially with you, I don't think there's any doubt its for forever."

We share another kiss, his lips grazing mine delicately.

As we pull apart his eyes light up, its like he's just seeing me for the first time but he does it every time he sees me.

Normally I wouldn't feel at all beautiful in just a tee shirt, but standing in front of Stiles? I've never felt more beautiful.


End file.
